


Murder Inc.

by roe87



Series: Steve/Bucky Historical au's [6]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: 1930s, Alternate Universe - 1930s, Alternate Universe - Gangsters, Alternate Universe - Mob, Alternate Universe - Prohibition Era, Assassins & Hitmen, Awesome Howling Commandos, BAMF Bucky Barnes, Big Gay Mobsters, Canon-Typical Violence, Gangsters, Hitman Bucky Barnes, Implied Bottom Bucky Barnes, Italian Mafia, Jewish Bucky Barnes, Jewish Character, M/M, Mob Boss Steve Rogers, Murder, Non-Graphic Violence, Oneshot, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Prohibition, Short & Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-15 15:28:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29438280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roe87/pseuds/roe87
Summary: Bucky is a hitman for hire, and he'll rub out anyone for the right price.There is one man that Bucky won't rub out, however, and his name is Steve Rogers.(just a lil' hitman/mobster oneshot. Happy Valentine's!)
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Series: Steve/Bucky Historical au's [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1993342
Comments: 30
Kudos: 184





	Murder Inc.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Voodoosgirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Voodoosgirl/gifts).



> Rated M for violence (but it's not graphic and only Pierce dies on page, I'm sure nobody is bothered about him, lol).
> 
> (anti)Valentine's fic for Voodoosgirl. ❤
> 
> Photo edits by me.
> 
> ~~

_October, 1931_

"All's I'm saying is," Gabe said as he drove the car, "how do you know you don't like something if you haven't tried it?"

"And all's _I'm_ saying is," Bucky replied, sitting in the passenger side, "is that I have a sense of smell and you couldn't force me to eat liquorice at gunpoint."

Gabe chuckled. "Don't tempt me," he said.

Bucky smiled wryly, gazing out at the night view of the country road, dark trees on either side. Only the car's headlamps out front gave any sort of light. Bucky checked his pocket watch to see the time, but as he couldn't see well enough he had to flick his lighter open. By the time he read, they'd been driving upstate for the past hour and a half.

"This is far enough," he said, putting his watch and lighter away.

"Okay." Gabe slowed the car and found a place to park on the side of the road. "Think there's a gap in the trees over there."

"That'll do," Bucky said, opening his door to get out.

Gabe cut the engine, leaving the lights on. He got out the driver's side, coming around to Bucky's side of the car.

"Let's do it in the light," Bucky said, gesturing at the columns of light the car's headlamps made. "I almost fell down a ditch last time. Not risking that again."

"Should look where you're going," Gabe said, as they approached the back door of the Ford Sedan.

Bucky opened the door and reached down to pull away the dark woollen blanket they'd stashed there earlier. The bound and gagged man on the backseat let out a muffled groan, and started wriggling about.

"End of the line, Mr. Pierce!" Bucky said, taking hold of the older man under his arms. Bucky dragged him out the car, and Pierce flopped out onto the roadside like a limp fish out of water.

"Instead of dragging him up the road," Gabe said, "I could turn the car around and give you some illumination?"

"Good idea," Bucky agreed. He squatted down next to Pierce as Gabe closed the door on the car then went back around to the driver's sound. "Now, then, Mr. Pierce," he said, looking down at the man's pale face in the dark. "You got on the wrong side of the wrong people." He reached down for the knife clipped to his belt, pulling it free. The blade glinted in the dark. Pierce's eyes went wide when Bucky lowered the knife, but he only cut the gag away.

"Wait, wait," Pierce pleaded, "can't we cut a deal? I got money, lots of money!"

"Yeah, but it ain't your money," Bucky pointed out. "Not any more."

Gabe started the car with a clank of gears, drove away and took the light with him. He did a U-turn on the dark road, turning the car around to point the headlamps directly at Bucky and Pierce.

Now he could see better, Bucky got up, hand dipping inside his coat to draw out the black pistol holstered there. He pulled back the trigger and aimed, setting Pierce in his sights.

"Any last words?" he asked, only mildly interested. Pierce had always had a lot to say when he thought he was the one in charge.

"You can tell your boss," Pierce spat, struggling against his bonds, "that he can go to hell!"

"Alright," Bucky said calmly. He pulled the trigger, firing five rounds into Pierce until it was clear that the man was dead. Bucky walked over to the body, toeing him with his shoe to check. Yep, Pierce was gone.

"By the way," Bucky said to Pierce's body as he re-holstered his gun, "I don't have a boss, asshole. I'm an independent contractor."

He left Pierce on the side of the road, getting back into the Sedan and shutting the door.

"We leaving him there?" Gabe asked.

"Yeah." Bucky pulled out his pack of cigarettes. "They want Pierce found eventually. Sends a stronger message that way." He took out one cigarette, then offered the packet to Gabe.

Gabe took a cigarette too, and they both lit up.

"You alright driving back?" Bucky asked, taking a long drag of his smoke.

"Yeah, I'm alright," Gabe replied. "Back to Brownsville?"

"Yeah," Bucky said. "Let's stock up on some candy."

Midnight Rose's Candy Store in Brooklyn was open twenty-four hours, and Bucky's crew used it as a base of operations, having taken over one room at the back.

Gabe parked the car close by and the pair walked to the store, keeping an eye out for anyone else on the street in the dark. Couldn't be too careful at night.

The Candy Store's lit windows were a welcoming sight, and they entered the door one by one, the little bell above tinkling to announce their presence.

Darcy, the owner's daughter, was behind the counter. She greeted them both as they walked in.

Bucky noticed that Darcy had some small boxes out, and was filling up the glass candy jars on the shelves. That meant a delivery had come in.

He hung back, lingering at the counter. "I'll catch you up," he told Gabe, who nodded and went on ahead to the back room.

"Hey," Bucky said to Darcy. He looked around the jars for his favorites. "You got some more of those sour lemon lollipops?"

"Not yet," Darcy replied, as Bucky groaned in disappointment. "What about cherry?"

"'S not the same," Bucky complained, but he eyed the jar of red candy with interest when Darcy brought it out. She took the top off the jar and offered it to him.

"Give 'em a whirl," she said with a smile.

Bucky grumbled again, but he stuck his hand into the jar to grab a few bright red lollipops. "These better be good," he muttered in Yiddish.

"Better than lemon," Darcy retorted in Yiddish.

They were both Jews, and enjoyed ribbing each other any chance they got.

"Slander," Bucky said calmly. "Lemon is far superior." He stuffed the candy in his coat pocket. "Thanks, kid."

He left Darcy in the shop and went out back. Most of his crew were there tonight, playing a card game at the table as usual. Monty, Dugan, Dernier and Morita. Gabe had already joined them, and Dugan was in the process of sliding cards over to Gabe.

"Deal me in, too," Bucky said, pulling up a chair. He removed his coat, hanging it on the back of his chair before sitting down.

All the guys were armed like he was: a pistol holstered under each arm, and plenty of concealed knives on their person to boot. They were hitmen, and it paid to be ready at a moment's notice.

That was why Bucky's crew were the best in the business. Their rub outs were the stuff of legend across New York state, and all the way to Chicago.

Dernier poured them fresh cups of coffee. He usually had a pot going at all hours of the night. While they had bootlegged bottles of bourbon stashed around the place, they didn't drink the alcohol while they were technically on call.

Dugan slid some cards across the table to Bucky, who put his hand over them and took a look at the cards with his other hand concealing them.

He didn't have a great hand. Luckily for him, his poker face was unmatched.

"Alright, boys." Bucky kept his cards close, then felt in his pocket for one of his lollipops. He unwrapped the candy and stuck it in his mouth. "Let's play."

Gabe won the first game, then Bucky won the next.

Dugan lost both times and was furious. Half the fun playing poker with Dugan was to rile him up and watch his mustache bristle.

Monty dealt next, and they started another game. They played for a long time, well into the early hours of the morning. Only one other call had come in just before midnight, and it was a fairly standard job to intimidate a witness to stop him talking to the authorities.

As usual the crew had discussed among themselves, with Bucky having the final say of who the job went to, but they were pretty much in agreement that the job should go to Dugan. He was good at making a scene and intimidating someone, his reputation for violence preceded him. Often, people who knew who Dugan was only had to see him before they broke down and agreed to what he wanted. A quick and easy job.

Dugan chose Dernier as his second, and the two of them left the game, folding their cards.

Sometimes jobs required watching their targets for a couple days to establish their routine and do a risk assessment of when to make contact. Dugan and Dernier wouldn't be back at the table for a day or two, in this case.

Bucky didn't think they'd get another call that night, and he was almost ready to pour himself a bourbon and start taking it easy.

Then a call came in, the phone's shrill loud in the quiet room.

"Three in one night," Gabe commented, as Jim picked up the phone.

Jim didn't speak beyond saying "Mm-hm," a couple times as he made a note of the details. That was pretty standard, but when he hung up, Jim tore off the paper with the hit on it and folded it up. "Hey, Buck," he said, leaning across the table to pass the note.

Bucky got up and took it, curious.

If Jim was passing the hit straight to Bucky, then it had to be something fairly serious. He unfolded the paper and read the name, and he had to school his features so his surprise didn't show on his face.

"This one's mine," he said to Jim, stuffing the note in his pocket. "Not a word about it until I say so, understand?"

"Yeah, boss," Jim replied.

"You need a second?" Gabe asked, as Bucky got up and grabbed his coat and hat.

"Nah, I'm good," Bucky told him. "You take care of this place. I'm gonna take the car."

Gabe tossed him the keys. Bucky caught them, then headed out the back way. He had to hustle.

When he got to the car, he threw his coat and hat onto the passenger seat and got in behind the wheel. He drove straight to the docks. There was a warehouse there that handled shipping, and was also a front for Sicilian mob boss Vittorio's bootlegging operation.

One of Vittorio's top lieutenants was usually on site, and his was the name that'd come through on the new hit: Steve Rogers.

When Bucky got to the dock he parked the car far enough away that it hopefully wouldn't be spotted. He pulled on his coat and buttoned it up against the river's sharp wind, then he took the scenic route to the warehouse past shipping crates, nets and pulleys that the boats used for lifting. He slipped in a side door for warehouse staff only.

Even though it was the middle of the night, the warehouse was abuzz with activity. Illegal activity. Much easier to shift all the bootlegged booze out when everyone else was asleep.

Bucky pulled his hat low and put his coat collar up. He slipped behind stacked boxes and crates, using all of his skills as a hitman to enter undetected, and then make his way up the stairs to the offices.

If any of the busy workers hauling heavy crates caught a glimpse of him, all they'd see was a guy in a trench coat and hat. All the mob guys dressed the same, so they wouldn't know who he was.

Bucky got himself upstairs, which was stacked high with boxes and crates to be shipped out, so he couldn't see a lot anyways. He heard Steve though, his deep voice easily distinctive. Bucky approached quietly, listening to the lieutenant talking with his soldiers, giving orders and telling them what to do with the next deliveries.

Bootlegging was a huge operation, and boss Vittorio had control over distribution in two of the five New York boroughs.

Steve didn't appear to be taking a break any time soon, and Bucky was impatient. He put his lips together and started whistling the tune _take me out to the ball game._

It was a pre-agreed code, Steve would know it.

Bucky had to whistle it a couple times before Steve stopped talking and got rid of his men, hustling them out of the room.

As soon as the coast was clear, Steve whistled the tune back. Bucky smiled to himself and stepped out of the shadows into the light.

"What's so urgent it couldn't wait?" Steve quipped. He was dressed sharp as always, in a tailored, pinstripe black suit, with spats over his shoes and a fine felt hat on his blond head of hair. He walked up to Bucky and smiled his signature lopsided grin. Bucky was a huge sucker for that handsome face.

But no time to moon, his news was time sensitive.

"Take a look for yourself," he replied, offering out the handwritten note.

Steve took it, seeming mildly amused. That was, until he opened the note and read it, then his face darkened.

"I see," he said, voice laced with steel. "Let me guess. My boss?"

Bucky nodded. "It just came in. How'd you make Vittorio mad this time?"

"Well." Steve exhaled tiredly. "I told him that turf wars with Moretti were a waste of time and men, and we'd make more money by striking up a deal to share turf."

"Yeah, that'll do it." Bucky smiled wryly. "Steve, these are traditional, old men. They both want to be number one and they only know their own way."

"Yeah, but this ain't Sicily, Buck," Steve sighed. "Things could be so different if they'd just listen."

Bucky shrugged a shoulder. "Whatcha gonna do?"

"I assume you're telling me this to warn me?" Steve asked, his eyes searching Bucky's.

Bucky nodded.

"Okay," Steve said, with a note of finality in his voice, "then I have no choice. It's kill or be killed.

"If you tell me where Vittorio is," Bucky said quietly, "I'll go take him out now."

"He'll be at home." Steve rubbed a hand over his chin in thought. "I don't want his wife or kids there when you do it. I'll invite him to lunch tomorrow, a restaurant. We can do it there."

"It'll be suspicious coming from you," Bucky pointed out. "Let me talk to him. I'll call him and say that he has to invite you to a restaurant, and that's where I'll do the rub out. He'll think I'm there for you, when I'm really there for him. The perfect cover."

"Alright." Steve smiled slyly, crowding in on Bucky now. "Ain't I lucky you're on my side."

Bucky smiled back. "Lucky for you you're a demon in the sack," he sassed.

"Guess I know how to repay you, then," Steve murmured, tilting his face down to capture Bucky's lips in a searing kiss.

Bucky kissed back, the brims of their hats butting gently as they shared a hot, passionate kiss. Bucky adored Steve and would do absolutely anything for him. He'd kill a dozen people if he had to, and he didn't care who.

"Alright, Buck," Steve said softly as he pulled away, "get outta here and call me when you've set it up."

Bucky adjusted his hat. "Sure thing."

"Say," Steve looked at him quizzically, "you taste of cherry today."

"Oh." Bucky patted the pocket of his coat, where the candy was. "Yeah, new stock at the store. Was just trying 'em out."

Steve shook his head, a smile teasing his lips. "Well, I prefer it to the lemon," he said, before walking away.

Bucky smiled to himself. He quietly unwrapped one of the lollipops, and stuck it in his mouth. "Good to know."

The end.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! 
> 
> I was just in the mood for some fictional violence, and Bucky-in-noir aesthetics!
> 
> [Murder Inc.](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Murder,_Inc.) was the enforcement arm of the mob, made up of Jewish-American and Italian-American hitmen. It was a once in a generation gang, especially for the Jewish mobsters, yet in the decade they were active they were responsible for many of the Italian mafia's 'greatest hits'. 
> 
> Steve's character I based on Sicilian gangster Lucky Luciano, who after taking out first his boss and then his rival boss thus disposing of the warring bosses, he put the 'organised' into 'organised crime' and created The Commission, which was a board of directors for the mafia in America with all bosses equal. The Commission was so organised about it that it took the FEDs 60 years to dismantle it.


End file.
